Текст книги "The Battle for New York"

Автор книги: T. I. Wade

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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 28 страниц)

The first HC-130 fuel tanker, the one General Allen had loaned to Preston, flew in from the North Carolina airfield and was being refueled to take a satellite phone over to the Air Force base in the Azores. From the Azores, and with its extended range, the plan was to fly her directly into Turkey or Baghdad and help ferry a platoon of troops at a time from the front lines into one of the safer bases.

Very few items were needed overseas, but several 5,000-watt military generators, a complete field hospital, and 1,000 gallons of gasoline in five gallon canisters was loaded aboard the 747, as well as blankets, beds, and anything else anybody thought might be needed over there. Carlos, studying the world’s weather two hours after receiving the phones, printed out three copies of the world’s weather on a flat printed map of the Earth—exactly what was being transmitted onto his simple screen—and then gathered the phones for the 747.

Each phone and a charger had already been packed up into a plastic zip-lock bag with the new owner’s name on it, and he headed out to the giant Air China 747 sitting on the runway and Carlos saw that the fuel tankers were already clearing themselves away from the aircraft. He climbed up the steel stairway to the front of the aircraft and went in.

A guard of six fully armed men would stay with the aircraft through-out its journey. They had already gotten comfortable in the First Class area. Seats had already been made into beds and it was weird to see a machine gun, rocket launchers, and cases of ammo ready for use in the aisle of the very luxurious aircraft.

The Air Force pilots were waiting for him. They were handed their own satellite phone, and Carlos could guide them if weather was going to be an issue. Right now, the only weather issue was in Germany where it looked like a snow storm was blanketing the area north of the Alps. Carlos had several timed prints of satellite photos for them showing the last 24 hours of the storm’s movement.

Since they were heading straight into Ramstein, the runways were expected to be clear, but they had more than enough fuel to fly into Aviano, Italy if the weather closed the two central German bases. From there, the jumbo jet was to hand over the satellite phones for further distribution with the HC-130 which would arrive 12 hours later. Once the phones were distributed, more accurate weather conditions could be relayed to pilots from the bases they were flying into.

In the last 12 hours, Lee had worked on getting a dozen old fashioned military mobile radio beacons working again and had been waiting for parts to be brought in on the transporter. Many of the old military mobile beacons were in metal containers about three-feet square and two feet high, and could be moved around on a forklift with a small generator inside the unit as its power source. Much like a normal radio frequency, an aircraft’s radio could look for the beacon’s transmitting noise and then home in to the location where the beacon originated. These units were sent mostly into forward areas with dirt airstrips to bring in supplies. Due to the electrical outage, these simple and antiquated directional systems were the only choice available, and the 747 was about to be loaded with six of these units in her cargo hold.

The HC-130 bound for Hawaii and Japan would have another six aboard in an hour or two, and once these were distributed, any aircraft would be able to direct its auto pilot onto the homing beacon from up to 1,000 miles out.

Carlos and Lee were happy to finally see the 747 take off at mid-day on the eighth day, fully fueled but still very empty for such a large aircraft. She turned eastwards and headed out over the Atlantic for Europe and the Middle East. They realized that the massive aircraft, light on luggage, could bring back more than 750 troops at a time, and it would take at least 24 hours for every round trip.

General Allen called Carlos. It was 1:00 am in China, and an hour after the attack in Nanjing. He gave Carlos the good news: the attack had gone well. Mrs. Wang had showed them the right buildings, and thanks to her the Zedong Electronics headquarters was now a pile of broken rubble. He had also seen the lights in Nanjing go out.

Carlos told him that the whole of the rest of the world had gone dark, including North Korea, Iran, and even the entire area the General was flying out of several minutes after the actual attack time. There were several small areas of lights to his south, around a Shanghai airport and the city’s harbor area, he believed. He had seen a faint light of the fires in Nanjing on the screen a few minutes earlier, but had left to deliver the radios to the 747, which had just taken off for Ramstein.

“Carlos, ask Lee to use one of the satellite phones and call the red number. I want to see if that number is still operating,” instructed the general. Lee did, and after several seconds an engaged tone was heard by Carlos and he relayed the information. “I’ve been thinking about our upcoming attack,” continued the general. “Carlos, please hand Lee the phone.”

“Harrow, Mr. Allen Key,” said Lee into the phone.

“Hallo, Lee. Your wife is okay and asleep at the rear of the aircraft. I’m heading into Beijing and should be in the area in about an hour. I was thinking about these 747 aircraft. Where do you think Zedong Electronics has them stationed?”

“It can only be Shanghai Pudong International Airport, Mr. Allen Key. There are two airports in Shanghai, but Pudong is further out of the city and I would think that they have them all at this airport ready to carry the Red Guards into New York. There are two very faint lights in that area—the only ones left in the whole world.”

“How many aircraft does Air China own, Lee?” asked the General. “Civilian aircraft are not my specialty.”

“I don’t know for sure, but they must have a lot of the 747s like the Air China one that left a few minutes ago. Also, they have purchased some of the big new European ones in the last couple of years, Mr. Allen Key,” Lee replied.

“Thank you, Lee. Please hand me back to Carlos.” Lee did.

“Carlos, I want you to cancel that flight—the HC-130 flight into the Azores and then Turkey,” stated the general. “You still have the Marines at McGuire? The ones who arrived from North Carolina an hour or so ago? Also are there two Chinese-speaking pilots, Captains Wong and Chong? They were with Joe Patterson in JFK. I need to speak to the chief of the Marine detachment, Patterson, the two Chinese-speaking pilots, and the crew of the HC-130 immediately.”

“I’ll call you back in ten minutes, Pete,” replied Carlos.

Carlos gave orders to three men standing by, ready to help him at any point, and they ran off to go and get the personnel the general wanted. This gave the general, a pretty fast thinker in his old age, a few minutes to work out a beauty of a plan. Joe Patterson’s brave actions at JFK had given him a fantastic idea.

They were still waiting for Major Patterson and the two Chinese pilots when a soldier returned and told them that they would be several more minutes. Carlos told the soldier to go out to the aircraft and stand by. He also phoned General Allen back and told the general about Lee repairing the 12 mobile beacon units, and that six were already on their way to Europe and the Middle East. General Allen was ecstatic, and thanked Lee profusely for the idea. It made his day to know that a real plan was coming together in his absence and also, within a couple of days international flying could be made safer and easier for the pilots. Carlos then told him that a radio beacon was already operating at McGuire as of 20 minutes ago, gave him the frequency, and told him that there were still another three they were working on. The general reckoned that there must be dozens of them in Europe, and told Lee to get several of the necessary parts loaded with the Air Force engineers going to Hawaii and Japan. Lee told him that he could have another two ready within the hour, and the general ordered him to get them placed into the HC-130 he was about to have the meeting about.

“Good day, gentlemen,” the general started, as Carlos put the phone on speaker 10 minutes later, once everybody had arrived from different places on the large base. “First of all Marine Lieutenant Smith, well done down in North Carolina! You guys did a fantastic job and I have an even more exciting mission for you. Major Patterson, well done again. Captains Wong and Chong, you are to be commended. Actually all of you will be recommended for a promotion once we have won this thing. A luncheon with the president is certainly in the cards in the not too distant future. Lieutenant Smith, can you get 24 parachutes from your base in North Carolina, and are you all parachute-trained for low-level insurgence?”

“My entire platoon is well-trained, sir, and yes we can get chutes at Camp Lejeune,” the lieutenant replied.

“Good. Captains Wong and Chong, have you completed parachute training?” the general asked.

“Yes, but just basic training and the minimum amount of jumps needed,” Captain Wong replied.

“The crew of the HC-130, are you there?” the general asked.

“Yes sir, Captain Pierce here,” the commander of the aircraft answered.

“Captain Pierce, what is the range of your 130 if you take her up fully fueled with a payload of 5,000 lbs., bleed all the tanker fuel into your tanks and, instead of refueling another aircraft you refuel yourself? If I’m right, you can increase your range to 6,800 miles?”

“In that configuration and depending on cruise speed and altitude, I think we could do more than that. I reckon on closer to 7,000 miles, sir. Maximum range is 4,500 miles, plus 2,000 miles of tanker fuel, plus a reduced cruise of 330 miles an hour at maximum altitude; 32,000 feet,” Captain Pierce replied.

“The 747 flights into JFK came in from the east, but I bet they went over the polar route to get here. Am I right Captain Wong? You flew the 747 back here to McGuire, right?” asked the general.

“Yes sir. We had already turned north 30 minutes out of U.S. international airspace at 32,000 feet to head over the polar route and in the direction of China, when we left the transporter and ‘crashed’ due to fuel starvation,” Captain Wong replied.

“This is crazy, but listen to my plan,” continued the General. “I believe that the 130 can get you over the polar icecap to Osan, South Korea. The flight will be about 6,800 miles. If necessary, you can go in early at Misawa, Japan, which will be around 200-300 miles shorter. Carlos can help you navigate. Take the two mobile beacons Lee has repaired with you, and I will give you instructions as to where to leave them once I get to where I’m going. I want as many pilots and co-pilots who can fly 747s or Airbus 380s that you can fill into the back of the 130.

“All the new and modern aircraft are the same to fly in the long run. Captain Pierce, you will have enough pilots in your back seat to help you get there. Refuel in Osan or Misawa and go low into Shanghai Pudong International Airport. I hope to be there to fly in with you. It’s imperative that all the men who can fit in the back of the C-130 are able to parachute out. They will do so at low level a mile or so away from the airport. You can take all the old satellite photos and maps of the area around Pudong in our classified files that you need to finalize your attack plan while in the air. Under the command of Lieutenant Smith, I want you to infiltrate the airport. You should find dozens of beautiful aircraft, and I’m sure they will be fully fueled and ready to go. Beware; there could be thousands of soldiers in the area ready for deployment into New York in a week or two. I want you to fly out as many aircraft as you can. If they are not refueled, fly them into Osan. Even an unrefueled 747 could fly as far as South Korea on reserves. If they are full of fuel, then fly them straight to our base in Turkey.

“Now, the mission will be dangerous and will take as many pilots as you can fit to help fly the aircraft out of there. I reckon there are up to 30 aircraft waiting for us. Even a set of Chinese pilots flying the aircraft with three Marines itching to shoot their nuts off should want them to get airborne and give us another few planes. Captain Pierce, you will drop them in at less than 1,000 feet and then you are out of there if I’m not around, understood?”

Everybody agreed to a plan that would be finalized in the air.

“You guys need to get going, because I’m going to hang around this area and I hope to be over Pudong with our three re-armed gunships in case you need help. One more thing, guys. I don’t believe the Red Army, or the Red Guards, or whatever they call themselves will shoot at the 747s while they are taxiing for take-off. Shooting their own aircraft will piss-off their boss and destroy their only way to get to New York. Major Patterson, Captain Wong, we’ll need you to do your Supreme Commander ‘thing’ again.”

“Yes, sir,” both men replied, smiling broadly.

“You guys prepare. Patterson, get an aircraft immediately down to North Carolina to pick up the parachutes and get them back to McGuire. Actually, Carlos, call up Preston and get Buck in the DC-3 to pick up 30 parachutes and reserves from Camp Lejeune and fly them up to you at McGuire. That will save you an hour. You should be on the ground in China in 24 hours, which gives me enough time to see Beijing and hopefully Moscow before flying back to Osun and meeting up with you. Now go!” The men left.

“Carlos I’m going to put on transponders and leave them on. I don’t want to go into a foreign county’s capital without warning them, if they can see me.” Carlos watched as four transponders began blinking on the screen a second later. The general was 100 miles south of the Capital of China, and still hadn‘t seen one aircraft other than the three around him.

General Allen flew into Beijing Capital International Airport an hour later. It was three in the morning, and the airport was dark and quiet. They had found the main runway through infrared scanners, and they did a sweep over the runway surface with landing lights, noticing thin patches of ice here and there, but mostly dry asphalt. They did not have much information on the airport. It wasn’t one the Air Force frequented, and Google was not available, so they couldn’t just pull up what they wanted.

The three gunships went into a wide arc flying low over the main city, hoping to attract attention, and then flew out a couple of miles and turned into long finals. With the main runway far ahead of them in the dark, the general turned on all their lights, again trying to grab attention, and the fourth aircraft with its lights on was circling above the runway guiding them in. They landed without a problem. One gunship reversed back to the beginning of the runway, and the other two taxied to the other end so that there were lights on either end for the tanker to land.

Once they were all on the ground, they formed up behind Ghost Rider and looked for a place to park. The nearest terminal, full of Air China aircraft, looked the best. It was weird to see a terminal with every one of its bays full with aircraft. The Chinese had certainly known about the pending event, and Pete wondered if any of the aircraft were flyable.

They parked in a line behind a couple of older Air China 747s and brought their engines to a stop. There was no welcoming committee, and the general donned a winter coat. With two pilots carrying carbines, they stretched their legs and walked across to the empty terminal with flashlights. It was totally shut down and there were no lights anywhere. He climbed the ladder up a moveable walkway to the terminal and opened the door. It was unlocked, as was the door to an Air China 747.

He walked in with his flashlight and found his way to the flight deck. He pushed several buttons, which in normal operation would have given him a response, but this aircraft was as dead as the rest around the world. He walked out and down the ladder in time to see an old army jeep with its lights on pull up to the aircraft, guns pointing from both sides. The 20mm Gatling guns in Easy Girl had already swiveled and were pointing directly at the jeep with its four occupants, which was several yards away from Ghost Rider.

General Allen, with his general’s star shining brightly, walked up to the jeep and stated “American Air Force” to the four men, who turned their rifles on him. “Does anybody speak English?” he asked to non-comprehending stares. Two men got out of the jeep. He stared directly at the highest ranking man who looked like a lieutenant or a captain and General Allen shouted out to anyone in Ghost Rider to bring out Mrs. Wang. The Chinese soldier didn’t really know what to do, but saw the insignia on the general’s coat and snapped to attention. The rest followed suit. Rank was, after all, rank.

Mrs. Wang timidly came out of the aircraft and walked over to stand next to General Allen.

“Mrs. Wang, please tell them that we are on a peaceful mission around the world to find out if everybody is in this unfortunate condition, and that we want to find out who is to blame for this madness. Tell them that I come directly from the President of the United States and have a message for their Head of State,” explained the general. Mrs. Wang translated and waited for a response. The soldiers discussed the situation among themselves and the two still seated in the jeep prepared to drive off. “Before they leave, Mrs. Wang, I need permission to refuel my four aircraft. I can do it myself. I only need their permission and the closest outlet pipe or a fuel tanker.” Again she rapidly spoke to the men. They pointed to an old fuel tanker, gave her a rapid reply, the two men got back in and then they all drove off.

“They said to wait and that they would give your message to the government in Beijing 20 kilometers away. It will take them one or two hours to get back, and by that time, it should be dawn,” Mrs. Wang told him. “They said that all of Beijing was dark and they thought it was the Americans who had turned off the lights. You can help yourselves to any fuel you can find. He stated that he thought that the fuel pumps don’t work.”

General Allen shouted orders for the lights of the aircraft to be turned on and the nearest cover underneath the dark wing of the 747 in front of them was opened to connect them to the underground fuel pipes. The HC-130 tanker, with two of her engines running again started her transfer pump and got in as close to the rear of the 747 as possible and then pipes were run from her to the underground system. If the storage tanks were close by, then she could suck the fuel out of them, but if the storage tanks were far away, she had no chance. Much of the piping and fuel worked on a gravity-feed system assisted by electric pumps, and hopefully nobody had closed the tanks. It had only been a week since the problems had started and the underground tanks and pipes were all one inch-thick steel.

Her main pump was connected and slowly the fuel began to flow. Her incoming pump did not have as much power as the larger pump generators airports often used to fill large aircraft, but she managed to draw 100 gallons a minute into her half-full tanks. At this rate, it would take two hours to fill the three gunships and another full hour to refill the tanker.

The three gunships taxied in close to her and again pipes were brought out. She could pump fuel out at a much faster rate with her second pump into one of the three waiting for fuel. They were not empty. The flight from South Korea had left them with third-full tanks, but they still needed to get to Moscow, which would be another 3,600 miles, or 12 hours of flying time nonstop, and the tanker would need to refuel the other three aircraft. Fortunately, they still had the soft bladders to help with range and another hour of fueling would have those full as well.

Nearly three hours later, they had just started filling the extra bladders when three vehicles drove into the airport. They were old, black Russian-looking cars, like something out of the 1960s. They had flags waving above the headlights and the sun, now rising just above the horizon, made the scene of the old war birds and black cars look like something out of an old movie, if one didn’t turn around and look at the modern 747 behind them.

Three men in black coats and hats got out of the cars. Each one had a younger man with him—an interpreter, Pete thought to himself—and they walked up to him. One of his men went back into Ghost Rider and brought out Mrs. Wang.

“Good morning,” greeted General Allen. “Do you take Amex for fuel?” One of the younger men started translating to the three men and they smiled. “I have just flown in from South Korea, via Japan. I’m here on a peaceful mission from the President of the United States to find out who caused this catastrophe worldwide and tell China and Russia that the United States did not do this horrible deed.” The same translator did his job and the three older men listened.

“I am the Interior Minister,” the translator began after listening to the man in the middle. “My colleague on my right is the Minister of Foreign Affairs, and the colleague on my left is from the Ministry of the Environment. By the age of your aircraft and the danger you have placed yourself in to fly these aircraft around the world we understand that the United States of America is not to blame for this catastrophe. We do not think that Russia is to blame either, but of course we would like verification of that. Unfortunately, we have had no communications outside of Beijing since the first day of this year.”

“Do you know that there is a Chinese invasion force at this moment sailing across the Pacific?” asked General Allen. “It is an invasion force of soldiers, Chinese soldiers, and they are intent on invading the United States in a week or so.”

“My apologies,” replied the Interior Minister. “Unfortunately, this invasion force you speak of has nothing to do with the current government of China. Taiwan, of course is another matter, but we know nothing of any Chinese army or invasion force. We have no information at all.”

“So, Mr. Minister, your government does not mind if we blow this invasion force out of the water?” asked General Allen, looking at Mrs. Wang to translate it for him. She did so. The three men looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders, and the Minister of Foreign Affairs responded in rapid Chinese.

“We do not know of any invasion force, General,” Mrs. Wang translated for him. “If you believe there is one, then you must do what you have to do to defend your country. We are still on friendly terms with the United States of America and do not wish to invade your country. We do not want our country invaded either and I’m sure the perpetrators of this horrendous crime will come up against the wrath of your United States of America, and many other countries. We would like to be included in any form of international communications you may have, so that we can at least communicate between our two countries since it looks like this problem will not be solved overnight.”

“I agree, and thank you for your diplomacy,” replied General Allen. “I will be able to get a communications device to you if you allow us temporary landing rights at this civilian airport, and we could also bring a homing-beacon on our next flight to allow our aircraft to guide themselves in after that. As you see, we do not have very modern aircraft anymore. Just like your pilots, our pilots do not have satellite navigation,” Mrs. Wang translated.

“We would appreciate a communications device and will allow you landing and refueling rights at this airport. We will also make sure that we have equipment and power available to keep our runway clear and make our landing lights operational. It will still take us a few days. You may have our fuel in exchange for any communications devices you can give us. We need to set up new engineering establishments in our country to begin manufacturing new parts for new telephones,” he ended, smiling.

“I expect to have an aircraft here in a few days, and the pilots would appreciate good landing conditions. I am leaving now for Moscow and will hopefully have the same meeting with members of their government,” ended the general, shaking hands with the three men, who solemnly got back into their old limousines and drove off.

The Chinese army still hung around, hoping for more American chocolate and or cigarettes, General Allen believed—the same they had been given an hour earlier—this time, they received a case or each. They thanked the Americans by smiling and then drove off, leaving the General and his men totally alone in the middle of China.

The sun was well up by the time they had finished refueling. The General called Carlos as soon as the Chinese dignitaries left and asked him to place four more phones into the second polar-route HC-130. Carlos told him that the first of the two HC-130 tankers was already 30 minutes into its flight to Hill and then was aiming for California, Hawaii, and Japan as ordered. He had placed two extra phones in the aircraft just in case. The general asked how the polar-route flight was progressing, and was told that the parachutes had arrived and were being loaded, and that the aircraft was fully fueled and would be out of McGuire within 20 minutes. General Allen asked Carlos to put six more phones in that aircraft.

“I just want to point out, General,” answered Carlos. “We have 241 phones in total. Ninety-seven are, or will be, operational here, with another 80 heading out to other establishments. We don’t know how much feed the satellites can take, but for the next couple of years, I reckon that around 500 phone numbers will be the maximum since Lee has guessed that Zedong Electronics has somewhere between 300 and 500 of these phones set up, of which we already have 241.”

“Roger that,” replied General Allen. “Three of these phones are for future communications with the Chinese government and the other three I will offer the Russian government. The Chinese government has already paid for the phones.”

“You said PAID for them?” asked Carlos, puzzled.

“Yep! They paid for them,” laughed the general. “They paid 21,000 gallons of gas for them.”

“Okay,” replied Carlos. “I’ll put the phone numbers down as Chinese governmental phones.”

“And leave the red numbers on, in case the Zedong officials reappear and our friends here can contact them. Bye for now,” finished General Allen.

They took off directly for Moscow, 12 hours ahead of them, and they felt better after Carlos told them that even though there was a bad storm over northern Europe, and the whole of Britain and Scandinavia was clouded over, that the area around Moscow was clear and that it shouldn’t change for the next 12 hours. After 12 hours of sleeping and resting by all the men, except for the pilots on duty, they landed in icy conditions on Moscow Central Airport’s runway. The lights were on, the runway cleared, and three camouflaged single-seat, piston-engine trainer aircraft had come on their radar screens two hours earlier, just before dark. The three other 130s joined General Allen’s aircraft in formation, Ghost Rider guiding them into the capital of Russia.

*****

Oliver was doing his usual in the early morning on the tenth day. This time he had company—a lot of company. Three men walked with him around the runway and checked the aircraft, stopping at each one and making mental notes while they chatted. Preston was on the left of the president, who was enjoying the morning walks and the freedom the White House couldn’t offer, and Mike Mallory walked on his right. The secret service men had been asked to keep watch but stay close to the house and nearer to the First Family, who now had the use of the whole house.

Grandpa Roebels and Michael were itching to get back to California, to check on the farm and their small engineering laboratory in their farm hangar, and start working on repairing the damage done to the aircraft equipment they had taken out of the general’s private ride.

They had left shortly afterwards in the Pilatus with two fully armed men as guards and an Air Force colonel—an ex-F-16 pilot who was to fly the aircraft back to the farm. Their flight plan was to land and refuel at McConnell Air Force Base in Wichita, Kansas, deliver a satellite phone and orders from General Allen to form a civilian Air Force, and distribute any available military and civilian food to the people of Kansas.

From McConnell, they were to fly into Holloman AFB in New Mexico and give base leadership a phone as well as the same orders. From Holloman, they were flying up to Beale in northern California and then down to Travis Air Force Base to give them the same package. The two engineers would be dropped at their private airstrip, the two Air Force soldiers would first make sure that the farm was safe, and then they would remain with the two older men as protection.

The colonel would then make his way back across the states, visiting another five or six bases, handing out more packages and a presidential letter giving the base commanders the complete six phases of the food distribution plan copied on Presidential letterhead and with the Commander-in-Chief’s signature at the bottom. It was a one-page description for setting up the distribution system in their immediate areas. The president had received a packet of Presidential letterhead from the White House, and Martie typed and printed them out for him as needed.

Over the last two days, the entire group with the whole First Family involved, apart from having the odd battle with the enemy here and there, had worked on the plan when they had all been together at the farm. Preston had explained the latest developments of the plan to the general, and had gotten permission from the general to use all available Air Force personnel as long as their neighbor Army, Marine, Coast Guard, National Guard and Navy bases were included. The plan was pretty simple, and there was not much more that could be done for the people until the war was over.